


Midnight Meandering in the Monastery

by CdiGanon



Category: Fire Emblem, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Death, Depression, Gen, Murder, Other, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:02:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25964806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CdiGanon/pseuds/CdiGanon
Summary: Felix is coming to terms with not only the ongoing war, but his place in it all. In the kingdom, in his life. Who better to come across in this fragile mindset than a man whom much of it centers on?
Kudos: 8





	Midnight Meandering in the Monastery

The dead of night is always quiet. The most you could wager hearing was the gentle brushing of the wind against stone, but otherwise, an ethereal stillness would haunt the grounds of Garreg Mach. Without the bustling of students discussing tactics from the latest class, lines at the dining hall before the good food runs out, and the clashing of wooden weapons at the training ground...it felt more like a preserved graveyard than a school

This only became harsher after the war.

Felix Fraldarius could not stand this place on most days. Useless classes filled with information drilled into him since birth, all in preparation of service to a country that never gave but only took. Even when they would teach him to wield a blade, it was not for his own benefit. To slay the kingdom’s enemies. Cut down those who would oppose. Serve as a shield to...him.

A small  _ tsk  _ as the thought of him enters Felix’s mind, and is quickly pushed out. Like a maid shooing a dirty cat from the room. It will not stay out for long, but at least for now, there is reprieve. This was already a sleepless night filled with thoughts on past regrets; present ones too. To pile onto this the scarred and mad boar would serve only to complicate it further. And complications were already rife within his life.

Felix found it harder and harder to get rest. Real, true rest. He could not remember the last time when he pried his eyes open, and did not feel a cloak of ennui blanket his entire self. The hazy path of his life was stretched out behind him, details given by those around him but none he could really serve to provide. At least, none that weren’t mired in the pillars of his person. 

The death of his brother, in service to a nation that would not care. The savagery at Duscur, and the man...the  _ thing  _ that carried it out. Yes, these were clear as day to him. But if he were to look back at, say, his time here at Garreg Mach? Blurry faces. Muffled noises. Vague memories of motions he would go through each day. Even the professor, a shining beacon so many clung to, was little more than slightly louder background noise in his memory. He had long given up the fight to grasp something more. Life seemed prepared to send him down a path much similar to his brother...how could he fight against it?

These thoughts boiled over within his brain, like a kettle left ignored. And no matter what he tried, it would not recede. So tonight, he does as he often does. Wander. His hair was left a mess, and his blue coat was tied tight to his form. The wind was blustery tonight, and though he may be restless, catching some form of sickness will only draw more eyes. Stepping as quiet as he could, Felix’s eyes washed over the stones and steps of the monastery, glazed and uninterested. There was nothing here to surprise him. A few guards set in the high towers in case of some unexpected night raid, but they sat perched away from this world. Felix almost envied that.

No.

He did envy that.

Walking by the training grounds, he contemplated utilizing it for some standard sword practice. It didn’t do him much good to ‘spar’ against a dummy, but it’d keep his mind busy. However, as he approached the doors, a new sound slipped its way into his ears. A mumbled, low voice and the thwacking of wood against sack. Someone...was here. Someone was using the grounds. Maybe even more than one, as he had heard speaking. Curiosity pushing him forward, Felix began to open the door...with a hand on his still sheathed blade just to be safe. Wouldn’t that be his luck? Discover an assassin preparing themselves in the training yard.

Opening it slowly, Felix was preparing to speak out to whoever it may be. But instead of seeing someone in the courtyard, there instead loomed a form right in the doorway. A single blue eye peered down, and a bulk of madness was illuminated against the moonlight. One hand gripped a sturdy spear, and silence gripped them both. Felix took the moment to slowly close the door behind him, showing no fear in the face of a beast he knew too well.

“Felix.” it said, neither questioningly or surprised. Just a single, matter of fact word.

“Boar.” Felix fired back, with the same conviction. Yes, I am Felix. And you are a beast.

The first thing that was always at the forefront of the boar’s presence was his size. Felix had never been the tallest of men, and it seemed what he had lost, Dimitri had stolen away. Towering above him now, the hulking monstrosity that was the to be king was well aware of his growth. The man had honed his fighting with it. Dimitri had always been frightening with a spear, and now? Now he was beyond words with a reach like his.

The second thing that assaulted your senses when he approached would be the smell. Over these years, it was more than obvious the man had taken only the basic care of his person. And even that had been relegated to his armor and weapons. Those were in better condition than the shambles of this beast. Matted hair, greasy skin, and a stench that would almost make you think that a corpse walked in that armor.

Far as Felix was concerned, you would not be far off.

The silence had continued for more than a moment or two now, so Felix saw it fitting to break it. Moving past the man to escape the stench and his gaze, his sword became unsheathed as he began to work through motions he’s practiced for most of his life. As the slice of steel parted the air and struck against the dummy, Felix finally spoke.

“You’re up late. I would think our leader would be resting well, dreaming of his vengeance.”

Dimitri either didn’t pick up the malice in Felix’s words, or just didn’t care. He moved to the dummy beside Felix’s, and began to go through his own well known motions.

“I don’t sleep, most nights. The dead do not allow for rest on the living. If they cannot rest, then how could I?”

A flinch came to Felix’s face as Dimitri brought up ‘the dead’ again. Dimitri was, by his own account, haunted by spirits of those who have died. Hearing their lamentations, bearing their grudges...Felix didn’t like thinking on it. The man was either truly haunted by magic beyond all means, or was suffering from something else. It’s not as if a sword could solve this problem.

So what is he to say to that?

“...Have you tried...asking them to be quiet?”

Another few seconds of silence.

“No.”

And they resumed striking at the dummies in silence again, the  _ swish _ of their blades, the  _ thock  _ against the wooden stake beneath. Flicks of straw began to drift through the air, as if floating on this goddamn tension. Felix could barely stand how the boar didn’t even care to continue speaking. Was the man that focused? Tired? Angry with him? After a few more seconds of contemplating the layers of meaning behind this silence and his unchanging gaze, Felix had received his fill.

Sheathing his blade, Felix turned to the boar king with a crossing of his arms. Eyes piercing into the one, voice accusing. 

“Boar, what are you doing?”

“...Practicing my spear.”

“Not that, you idiot. Not sleeping? Speaking of the dead? What will you do if you doze off on the battlefield? Collapse into a heap and then die? For a man so ready for revenge, you seem just as eager to die.”

The Boar stopped at that accusation, turning his head slowly. 

“Eager to die?”

“Yes! Eager to die! You’re throwing yourself into this with no thought or plan. You’re taking all of us with you as well. What do these ‘spirits’ say to you? What makes you think this bloody path is the right one?”

The boar’s hand gripped the spear tighter, and a change in the look of his eye was like a warning.

“I hear their cries. Their need for it. I am not doing this for you. I am not doing it for anyone except those I have failed. They tell me to strike down every single one of them. They won’t be satisfied until she is dead. Until all her family is dead. Everyone who would stand to protect her is dead. Father cries for them to die. Dedue demands I take up arms in his name. Gle-”

Whatever he was about to say was cut off by Felix’s sudden increase in volume.

“DON’T say his name.”

Felix’s hand now held tight to his scabbard, fiery eyes staring back into the cold blue sheen of the boar.

“He died needlessly. Pointlessly. In service of a people that was eager to just see him replaced. Another sword being trained to slip into his shoes. And that’s how it will go with you, won’t it? Everyone can die around you, you’ll ‘bear their spirit’ all while finding new hands to pick up their weapons? A boar, a pig, plummeting the graves for whatever he finds useful.”

Dimitri’s spear thrust itself into the ground before him, and there seemed to be a change. Hunching over with one hand almost claw like against his face, the other holding tight to the spear. His breathing was more heaving, and a shiver seemed to be working its way through the boar’s body.

“Is this what you think of Glenn? Of all those who’ve died? Of you? Tell me Felix. Oh I can hear him now, lamenting his poor brother. A broken sword, he calls you. An empty scabbard. Ready to be tossed aside and forgotten. Dulled, no purpose. Aimless. Felix. Felix. You’re broken, Felix. This is what he cries to me. Do you want to see him? Would that fix your problem?”

A cold chill ran over Felix’s skin, and the hand on his sword began to pull the blade free. The spear lodged deep into the ground was pulled out with not even a show of effort from Dimitri’s side, and both hands now held tight to it.

“Death can embrace you, Felix. Whatever you leave behind in regret, I will carry it. I promise. You can be with Glenn, you can talk with him too. And whatever you need me to do, I will do it. I’ll see my spear soaked in your foe’s blood and regret.”

For the first time in recent memory, Felix felt his sword hand wavering. Soft steps were taken backward away from the monstrous form that was his opponent. The boar took steps forward to make up the space, and the clatter of steel echoed as Felix’s sword fell from his hands. Still they continued to move backwards, Felix’s eyes wide with fear.

This was Dimitri. This was the boar. This was the sight at Duscur that he had seen so long ago, and it was set on him. To see it is one thing...to experience it? Another.

“See? See? Felix. Your sword falls from your hand. You’ve given up. You’re ready for the end of your path. It comes for us all at uncertain times. But I’ve embraced it. I know what happens to those who go with regrets. Death will claim me too, but I will make sure to sate my needs.”

The spear was being pushed forward now, slowly. Felix was now against a wall, and the glint of the head in the moonlight was haunting. Dimitri was...smiling at him now. A smile lost within the storms of his own mind. 

“Tell me. Tell me what you’ll need, okay? I know her head will be one. I’ll find any other enemy. I’ll kill him in your name. Felix. Felix. It will be okay now.”

And as the spear prepared to push right into his chest, once more, Dimitri was interrupted by a sudden shout.

“ **_DIMITRI!_ ** ”

Even in this state, Dimitri knew that Felix saying his name meant something. The spear pulled back ever slowly, a small drop of blood cascading down to the ground. The silence was strong enough again for the  _ plpt  _ of it to be heard. What could be heard next was gentle tears, pouring out from Felix’s face.

“I...I don’t want to die. Not for this war. Not for you. Not like this. I don’t know what’s happened to you, but this...this darkness is more than what I knew before. Each bloody step you go down will only cause others to follow the same path. Don’t you understand that? Soak yourself in blood, and you’ll dirty everyone you touch.”

Dimitri seemed to consider those words, before simply turning around and resuming to strike at the dummy.

“There’s nothing left for me but blood. Goodbye Felix.”

Felix sat in silence, observing Dimitri. The way his arms moved in perfect motion, even this late. How his spear struck what would be fatal blows with precision. But most of all, Felix looked over his face. Motionless, expressionless now. His singular eye seemed glazed over, and staring off into a space no other creature on this world had access to.

Standing slowly, Felix collected his weapon and made his exit. From there, the shaken man would collapse back in his bedroom to a mixture of tears and vomiting. What he despised most of all had made itself manifest in Dimitri. The bloody conquering, the angry justification. The singular drive, like the point of a spear, demolishing anything that stood in its path. Felix could not stand this world, this way. But dying...dying would not fix it. Dying would only serve as further fuel for this broken logic. No. He would live. And he’d see the boar either changed...or if it came down to it…

A sword could solve this problem.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I hope you enjoyed this lil' short story. I haven't published a Fan Fic in literally over a decade and it's this damnable game that drags me back in. I'd love to hear what you think! I'm not sure when I might write another, but straight up, love to see people Enjoy My Content. So Pwease.
> 
> Pwease.


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